Russian Winters
by QueenyMidas
Summary: A moment from Viktor and Yuri's date in the Red Square.


Title: Russian Winters

Summary: Viktor and Yuri's date in the Red Square.

AN: This show brought me back to life. I was in a really dark mental health place when Yuri on Ice and its canon healthy queer relationship captured my heart. Things feel better now, and the world feels new. I love it and I'm not ashamed of it and I'm not ashamed that something fictional made me feel real things. This is something I wrote to make me happy and I hope it makes you happy too.

It was about a minute into Viktor's little history lesson that Yuri realized he didn't know much about Russia at all.

It, like most things in this world felt to Yuri, was embarrassing. He'd graduated from a top American college, right? He was supposed to be an educated man, or at least it felt that way. During his graduation the man at the podium (who Yuri had also mostly forgotten) mentioned that only one in one-hundred people across the world get the privilege of attending a university. And what had Yuri done with it?

Yuri supposed he could have taken a few more history classes, but it already took him five years to finish. That wasn't for lack of trying, just… Lack of emotional stability. Whoops.

After some more internal chastising Yuri attempted to compile all the things he knew about Russia as it unfolded like a Christmas card in front of him.

Viktor had insisted on The Red Square being the first place in Moscow they visit before the Rostelecom cup and Yuri could see why. The spiraled cathedral towers looks like they were holding up the sky, supporting the velvety darkness like a blanket over the city. Its beauty left Yuri gaping at the sky like he expected it to move with the chilly wind.

He paled a bit, eyes on Viktor's lips as they moved to tell the story of his country.

"Ivan the Great ordered the building of this fortress in case he needed to withstand a siege, but with that threat gone it makes a lovely cultural center," Viktor explained, all smiles. He considered it his duty and distinct pleasure to give Yuri as much of a taste of the country as he could. "Do you know who is buried here as well?"

Yuri went even paler. Was this some sort of test? "Uhm, no."

"Lenin's body is preserved within the mausoleum of the kremlin," Viktor informed him eagerly. It was his favorite morbid fun fact about the city, and there were lots of morbid fun facts to be had in Moscow. "People keep trying to break in and vandalize it. I don't blame them. Here we are taught his 'great exploits' by schools that cover up the suffering he caused."

"That happens with a lot of national figures," Yuri nodded, hoping relating it back to his own experiences in the Japanese school system to keep things relevant.

Thankfully, that was exactly the direction Viktor was headed in. "Now I get to tell you all about mine! You and your family have been excellent to me in learning about Japan in Hasetsu. Your mother even says my Japanese is getting better!" It wasn't. "Your turn. Repeat after me: Krasnyi."

"Krasnyi," Yuri said, trying to wrap his mouth around the word the way Viktor could. "What does it mean?"

"In Old Russian it means 'beautiful', but nowadays it also means 'red'. It gives this square its Russian name: Krásnaya plóshcha. Communists do love their red."

Yuri blinked. Did Viktor count himself among those people? "What are you?" he asked suddenly, immediately regretting it. "I mean, like, politically. You're the nation's Skating God, you must have something to say or at least get asked about it."

Viktor squeezed Yuri's hand and pulled him to the side where the food carts were. "One sec, okay?" Viktor requested. Yuri nodded and watched Viktor exchange in rapid Russian with a cart owner who produced two hot cider cups for them.

"Oh, thanks," Yuri said, taking the cup gingerly and sipping. "Mmm." He could taste maple and honey among other flowery flavors. He let the drink warm his hands and face before nursing it some more.

Viktor led him to a bench on the bridge and sat beside him, free arm going around Yuri's shoulders. "I am in a precarious position, Yuri," Viktor admitted. His almost nonchalant candor suggested more than his usual dramatics. "People like me are usually looked down upon, treated poorly, fired, attacked… And yet when someone spots me in a crowd they all cheer."

Finally something Yuri knew about: modern world politics. It was easier to keep up with history that was happening around you, and the Olympian mindset had him at least checking BBC News every morning after practice.

"I bring glory to the country through international sport and that allows me an immense amount of privilege. People overlook my passions for the good of country. I'm not sure that will work anymore considering I'm not competing and I'm coaching my foreigner lover, but I'm not changing the way I act out of fear," Viktor shrugged.

Yuri still wasn't used to being anyone's lover, let alone the sort to cause international scandal.

His head swam, and he was hyperaware of everyone around them so he could check on who was staring. Thankfully everybody around them was so absorbed in their phones and conversations with one another that the couple slipped below the radar.

"I'm not immune in any sense of the word, but everyone knows they'd be hard-pressed to find a heterosexual in men's skating with even half the talent I have," Viktor shrugged.

Yuri let out a breathy laugh. Viktor was certainly right about that. "Even when you kissed me?" he asked. "On the ice. Believe me, I wanted you to, but can't you get in trouble for it?" Yuri nudged their feet together under the bench.

"What kind of grand romance doesn't face society's trials and tribulations?" Viktor asked, waxing poetic. Again. "We're winning with the power of love, right?"

"Right." Yuri nodded. "That's how we win."

"Exactly! Now, repeat after me: Ya gomoseksual!"

"Ya gomoseksual. I think I already know what that means."

"Don't you ever," Viktor teased, nudging his cold nose against Yuri's cheek and resting there. "Sweet, sweet Yuri."

Yuri's smile betrayed his blush. Viktor's praise and affection often felt that way—like he was being tugged in two directions.

One direction was shame, doubt that Viktor could ever really mean what he said. The fear of it all being a cruel joke, no matter how often allayed by Viktor's kind words and steady hands, lurked in the back of his mind.

But the other direction was love. Giddy, highschool love that made him want to leave notes in Viktor's locker or take him to a dance or something equally ridiculous. Love that made him feel warm in a Russian winter.

They sat in silence for a moment and watched the people who passed by. There were other young couples on dates sliding about on the makeshift ice rink in the center of the plaza, laughing and falling.

"Thank you for showing me around," Yuri said.

"Ha, this is just the beginning! After you win gold at the cup I can take you to where I grew up and you can see the old ice rink I first skated on," Viktor promised. "It only seems fair after all I've seen in Hasetsu of your life."

"What, do you have embarrassing posters of me laying around in your childhood bedroom?" Yuri asked, voice thick with cynicism. He really never was going to live that one down. The look on Viktor's face when he found them was the sort of look that would haunt him for the rest of his life. Utter joy next to Yuri's utter humiliation.

"Unfortunately not," Viktor said. "And I'm afraid most of the places I lived in as a child were demolished and rebuilt as part of public works projects." He sipped his cider thoughtfully. "You've already met the people I'm closest to in this country. Yakov's team, Yurio. I don't have a charming family to bring you home to for cultural dishes and support like you did for me. It seems unfair. I wish I could give you more."

Yuri took Viktor's hand. "You've given me so much. Don't talk like that."

Viktor smiled a bit. "Thank you, Yuri."

"I still feel like I should be the one thanking you," Yuri admitted.

"Then we will thank each other in the best ways we know how," Viktor decided, standing. "Come, let me show you the rest of the square. You'll never guess where they put Stalin's body."

Yuri laughed even though it felt inappropriate to. "Sure, alright," he said and got to his feet and clutched Viktor's arm. "Lead the way."

"Of course, my love."


End file.
